The Tower
by Maneishy
Summary: The tower was a prison. A cold, ruthless fortress made for the worst that humanity could muster. The young brothers grew up in the small, stony rooms of the tower, with nothing but each other and dreams to cling unto. Character death warning. One-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**The Tower**

Once upon a time, two brothers lived in a tower. The tower was a high, mighty fortress which served as a merciless prison for the worst and toughest of men. If the tower did not prove to be enough to keep its inhabitants within its rooms, the cold stones with metal was built on a snowy valley, where the temperatures never went above freezing, and was surrounded by giant walls.

In short, escape from this unnatural prison proved to be impossible.

The boys had lived there since they had been mere children. They knew not of the sun's wonders, nor of the comfort of clean bed sheets, or of the taste of warm, delicious foods.

The eldest though, remembered the sweet touch and caresses of their mother and knew the sound from the crackle of fire.

The youngest remembered nothing. His only connection to the outside world being that of his older brother's stories. As a result, the boy grew up knowing nothing except for the scratchy feeling of rags, the cold feeling of the stone surrounded air, and the company of his brother.

Neither one of the boys knew why they were there. Didn't know that their home was actually an elaborate prison and, therefore, did not wonder what they had done wrong.

The blonde though, questioned the location of his mother and father, asked if they were ever going to come get his brother and him back.  
But as years passed, the older boy began to think that maybe he had imagined his mother's touch and his father's strong presence. And after the emergence of that particular thought, he stopped talking about them, even to his brother, and so the little child lost one of his only connection to the world outside the tower. Not that the child minded though. The stories his brother told him were nothing to him but entertaining tales to light up his imagination.

And so time passed, and the children grew into their early teenage years, with nothing but themselves to notice the changes of the other.

One would think that with the years, the boys would get used to the coldness the tower offered, but it was not within the brothers' nature to settle with what they currently held. Both wanted for more.  
No one had told the boys that what their minds conjured was not true, so their dreams became their goals, even the impossible ones.  
Dean, in particular, yearned for the freedom and adventure outside the wall. At night, he was visited dreams of flight, like the birds he saw at the sky outside their barred window, of speed, like the rats that lived in the hidden corners with him and his brother, and of agility, like the spiders that climbed the inside of his rooms.  
All these attributes, the oldest credited with life outside the tower. And therefore, he yearned for them.

A day came that the tower's long age took a toll on itself.  
The boys were playing, and in the moment of one particularly violent move, Dean ended up kicking the bars that went across the only window of the room.  
The bars immediately cracked and fell to their doom. At this occurrence, the brothers remained eerily still, unsure of what this turn of events meant for them.

The oldest was the first one to move. He peered outside the window, going farther out than he ever had.  
In that instant, he felt the wind on his face. The boy breathed deeply, letting the feeling of the cold air wash over him. And just like that, his mind was made.  
He would find a way to climb the tower, find out what the snowy blanket that constantly covered the tower's surroundings felt like between his feet.  
The boy looked at his brother, sharing his excitement and intent with a single look.  
Instead of being met with an equal amount of wonder, his little brother dirty face was filled with concern and fear.  
The eldest could only muster a small comforting smile, his mind having already been made up and not even his only companion could stop him.

The boy began his long trek down the wall of his home, thankful for the uneven stones that provided his hands and feet with a sufficient amount of support in his journey.

Even if he had already expected him to, he noticed how his younger brother watched with a clear uneasiness from the safety of the window.  
After a few minutes, the boy noticed the biting quality of the wind that had previously enchanted him, as he also found the slippery feeling of ice covered stones.  
As soon as he began wondering if this whole occurrence had been nothing but a big mistake from his part, the freezing temperature of the environment showed its trickiness. The child slipped, plummeting down to the snowy ground. In his surprise, he heard his brother produce a high pitch scream.  
Thankfully, he had already been fairly close to his goal and the only damage done was the soreness that the boy would surely later feel.  
He let out a soft groan, but made himself rise to his feet to show his brother his fortune at the fall.  
He proceeded to look around, examining his surroundings, once again excited at the prospect of adventure, quickly forgetting the shock he had just felt in favor of fulfilling his childish wonder. He walked, circling his tower, only to find that the giant wall that surrounded the side the window looked at, was just as equally as impressive and inescapable on this side.

Since there wasn't a lot to examine, the boy's adventure ended quickly, plus the fact that he found himself feeling more tired and cold than he had ever felt helped quite a bit in his decision. The only thing he wanted was to go back to the comfort of his brother up high at the tower.  
As soon as he began his climb back, he realized how impossible the task was. It was one thing to descend the tower and it was absolutely another to ascend it.  
By the sixth time his attempts had resulted in him falling down on his sore, cold, and wet ass, he allowed his tears to freely fall from his eyes, opting to stare up at his awaiting brother, demonstrating to him his resignation.  
Even with the howling wind, he could hear his baby brother whine at him, making noises and waiving his hands, attempting to give his older brother the strength to continue his journey up the tower.

Instead, the blonde opted to sit down on the cold, snowy ground, absolutely exhausted, frozen tear streaks covering his face.

Days turned into weeks and then weeks turned into months and his older brother was still stuck outside the protection of their tower.  
The youngest had thrown down all his rags to help his companion cope with the freezing cold that he knew constantly plagued him. As a result, he spent his days buck naked, peering out the window at his brother as the other did the exact same thing.

The small child knew, though, that his brother was suffering. He saw how he cowered from the physical pain caused by the cold as well as the mental pain produced by loneliness and guilt. Loneliness from the lack of contact the boys usually shared and guilt from leaving the youngest by himself.

The youngest felt his protector weakening, causing him to feel emotions he had never felt before, and as a result, he could not fully describe to himself his own feelings of fear and despair.

One particularly cold morning, after the boy had woken up and looked down his stony refuge. In an instant, he spotted his brother leaning down by the stones of the tower, his mouth and eyes shut tightly closed. Even if he had awoken several times to this particular sight, something in it shook him to the core of his being.  
Ignoring his first instinct, he convinced himself that the older boy was simply sleeping and would open his eyes as soon as he heard his voice. But even the child began making noises and howling out to the wind, his brother remained eerily still.

The youngest's noises soon became desperate and after several minutes, his screams turned into sobs and wails as the reality of the situation settled in. He knew what death was, his brother had told him several stories in which characters died from horrid deaths or sometimes peaceful ones.  
This death, the boy decided, was the most horrible of them all.

So he stayed by the window, like he had been doing every day to keep his brother company, and cried without relief.

Day turned into night, and night turned once again into morning, and the poor being still clung to the window, his red and puffy eyes never leaving his brother's silhouette, occasional hiccups shaking his little chest.  
He was so focused and exhausted, he never heard the man suddenly materialize behind him.

"Child." The accented, rough voice called him. Even if he wasn't expecting the sound and even if he'd never heard or seen another human being in his life other than his brother, the young boy didn't even flinch, much less turn, at the man's voice. He could not find it in himself to care anymore.

"Child." The voice repeated "I will give you a choice."

Still no response from the boy, but the man simply continued, undisturbed by the lack of an attentive audience.

"You have to choose between yourself and your brother." At the mention of the now dead boy, the young child turned to look at the older man, demonstrating that the mysterious figure had caught his attention.

"If you choose yourself, I will get you out of this prison, provide you with a life of warmth, riches, and love. You will have everything you have heard through your brother's stories. You will have a home, a family. You will be surrounded by people who love you and who you love back. There will not be a moment in which you will lack anything you desire. Cities, countries, even the world will be at the palm of your hand." At these words, the blue-hazel eyed boy simply scoffed and once again began his quiet mourning over his silent companion. The man watched the uninterested response with a sort of expected fascination. Even the wisest and best men would have taken at least a small moment to take the offer into consideration before they refused it, but it seemed like the temptation did not even register with the wild-looking thing.

"If you choose your brother though, I will bring him back to the land of the living. I will personally take him outside of the walls, and make sure that he is provided with all the adventure he has ever dreamed of as well as the comforts he remembers from his youth." At the mention of his brother's possible and living future, the boy made, what seemed to the man, an unintelligible, but urgent noise.

"However." The robed man ignored the child's desperate sound and preceded with his speech "You will take your brother's place at the outside of this tower and slowly freeze to death, just as your brother did."

To the man's surprise, there was not even a slight moment of hesitance as the boy responded, his voice small and shaky with the unusual strain of speaking.

"Dean. Save Dean."

* * *

The older boy woke up to the heat of the sun on his face, the feel of clean comfortable sheets on his skin, the smell of a warm delicious meal, and with no brother next to him.

* * *

 **Hi guys! So I don't know if this story was all great after I reread it, but while I was writing it and living through it, I almost ended up crying.**

 **I don't know if any of you recognize this story. I'm not sure if I once had a dream about a similar tale or if I read it somewhere. Of course the original story was different. It involved twins or something. I really really wish I could remember where all of this came from, so if any of you know about the story I'm talking about, please tell me. If not, I'm just gonna assume I just dreamed it.**

 **The other thing that I wanted to mention was what you guys thought about Sam doing the ultimate sacrifice for Dean. When I began writing the story, I thought Dean would be the one to try and try to save his brother, while Sam would be the adventurous one and try to leave the tower, but as I kept writing I realized that Dean was the one with the memories from outside the prison, the one who would have any idea and desire to go back to something. Sam, on the other hand, only knew life in the tower, and therefore, grew up without any knowledge of anything outside of it. And as Descartes once said, imagination is not powerful enough (that, in this case, involved a whole desirable world outside of his big brother.)**

 **Also, I wanted to hear the ideas that you guys came up with on:**

 **1) What was the reason the boys ended up in the prison?**

 **2) Who was the man who gave Sam the ultimatum?**

 **Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this little one-shot. See you next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**This one's for you, Pickwick :) You asked for a second part and here it is. Enjoy!**

* * *

Though he appreciated how comfortable he was, Dean could not help but recognize how foreign the whole situation made him feel. He had never experienced the feeling of the crisp freshly, made linen which currently surrounded him, neither had he ever smelt the fragrance of lemons- so used to the rotten smell of rat shit and other questionable, unsanitary odors- that assaulted his nostrils with every breath, and even he felt out of sorts by being completely clean and beret of any sticky, dirty substances on his skin or hair. Every single aspect that he woke up to screamed 'wrong' to him.

Especially the fact that he could neither feel, smell, see, nor hear his little brother. That bolted him right out of whatever comfortable haven he had been in.

He screamed his voice hoarse until he heard the distinct taps of feet coming towards the room he was currently in. Strangely enough, or not strangely at all due to his previous living conditions, Dean had not even thought of opening the door to expand his search for his baby brother, but he definitely felt like a fool as soon as the knob was turned, revealing a beautiful blonde, middle aged woman wearing a simple floral dress and a matching rich floral perfume.

"You okay, sweetheart? What were those screams?" She inquired with an evidently concerned expression marring her lovely features. She walked up to him, placing the back of her hand to Dean's forehead, an action which Dean was currently too confused to even think about deflecting.

"Oh darling, you have a fever" She softly 'tsked' at him, the offending hand leaving his forehead and settling to cup his cheek, "You should go back to bed and rest for a little while longer. I'll bring you breakfast and read you some stories while you eat. Sounds good?"

The woman did not even wait for an answer before she was ushering him back to the comfortable looking bed, tucking him back in, and placing a kiss on the forehead she had touched previously so freely. Next thing Dean knew, he was once again alone in the strange room attempting with all his available brain power to process the event that had just occurred.

Who was this person who seemed to know him? Where was he? Why was he here at all? And most importantly; WHERE WAS HIS LITTLE BROTHER?

Once again, Dean got up with the purpose of exploring beyond the clean-kept room, secretly enjoying the slight bounce from the mattress, but immediately berating himself for not being more serious when his brother was missing.

The short haired boy silently and carefully opened the door the blonde woman had previously used to enter and exit the room, preparing himself to face great dangers as he had when he foolishly left his tower with his little brother in it. Instead, though, more clean and white decorated walls which made up a somewhat long hallway greeted him. Dean could still detect a lemony aroma, but this time, it was also accompanied with a savory, mouth-watering smell he could not, for the life of him, identify.

As he attempted to orient himself to his surroundings, a slight screech startled the dirty blond boy from his musings. He turned just in time to see the face of a strange, light haired boy, just a few years his senior, embrace him without any form of delicacy, but with plenty enthusiasm. With an unmanly squeak, to which he would not admit of producing, Dean once again when into shock at seeing another person and receiving another warm reception.

"Hey big guy! How are you feeling today?" The boy asked, showing Dean a flashing an easy grin at his direction. The stranger moved from his hug to rustling his hair before he let go of Dean completely. All Dean could do was stare at the newcomer like he would if he had seen one of the rats from his tower flying.

At his expression, instead of feeling offended, the stranger simply pulled his head back and laughed.

"Dude, you should see your face. I didn't think I scared you this much, baby bro." At the last words, Dean's confusion only grew even more. Who was this person and why was he under the impression that Dean was his brother? Dean only had one sibling and that was a brown haired boy whom he had foolishly, and without meaning to, abandoned at their little room in the tower.

Seeing the confusion written all over Dean's face, and taking it as anger instead, the older boy frowned slightly.

"Oh gosh man, are you actually mad? I didn't mean to do you any harm, I promise. I just wanted to wish you a good morning, that's all. You know all I want, all of what we all want, is for you to be happy. You know I would never do anything otherwise, right?" He slightly babbled as he placed both hands on Dean's shoulders for support, as well as to maintain a direct line of view of Dean's ever-frowning features. As there was no apparent response to his words, the boy grew even more agitated.

"Do you want me to get you something? Maybe Mom? Here, stay here. I'll go get her. Mom? Mom!" He screamed as he power-walked through the mysterious hallway until he reached, and went down, some stairs Dean had previously failed to notice.

In just a matter of seconds, just as Dean was once again looking around, trying to figure out what to do and what his next move should be, he heard the footsteps going up the stairs, but this time, there were doubled.

"Sweetheart? You okay? You're brother says you were acting a bit weird. Is your head bothering you again?" The same woman from before went up to him, and once again, placed her soft hand on Dean's cheek. From the corner of his eye, Dean could see the nervous, worried look the boy who claimed to be his brother gave him.

It was all just too much, Dean decided, as he swatted the hand on his cheek and moved away from the weird people who were way too familiar with him. He needed to find his brother, not this coddling he was currently receiving from total strangers in an unknown environment. He quickly moved back to the only room he currently knew the contents of, refusing to look at the faces of the individuals behind him as he firmly shut the door. He could hear the worried voices behind the wood, but he firmly kept his body as a barrier. After a while though, the noises of concern stopped and Dean slid down to the floor, finally allowing himself to truly breathe since he had woken up in the soft, nice smelling bed.

God, he missed his brother. He wanted, more than anything to be reunited with him and then, finally, try to make some sense of this madness he was currently finding himself in.

"So this isn't what you wanted after all? Huh, I was sure it would be, you being a momma's boy before you went into that tower with that brother of yours. But then again, deciphering humans has never been my forte." Dean whipped his head up so fast at the accented words of the cloaked stranger that he swore he pulled a muscle in his neck.

"But do not fret, young survivor" He continued, "I'll make sure to get it right next time. Though, I must admit, this whole game your brother conjured would be the hell of a lot easier if you could just use your big boy words and tell me what it is that makes you happy instead of giving yourself anymore whiplash every single time I put you in different scenarios only for you to end up rejecting them." The man approached Dean as he spoke, making his long cloak swoosh as he walked, making his movements seem just as sassy as his words.

"Now, enough of this one-sided chit chat. Tell me how I can finally fulfill my promise so I can go dance with the blonde at that bar. I got to say, for the possibility of making that horrendous song for that tragic, lovey-dovey movie, she's quite the girl to keep around. Wicked sense of humor, I tell ya. Doesn't help that I've always had a thing for tall blondes."

Dean puckered his brow, not really understating half of what this strange figure kept babbling about, though he did comprehend what the man wanted to get out of him. Since, for once, his interests were apparently aligned with someone else's.

"I- I want-" Dean began, taking a moment to clear his unused throat, "I- I want to be with my brother."

Even though the man was cloaked, Dean was still able to hear the sigh and see the almost-fake slump of his shoulders.

"That's the one thing I cannot do, dear little monkey. You see, it would be quite unpleasant. More for you than for me, but still unpleasant." The cocky way the stranger mentioned those few words did not defer the extra meaning they hid behind from Dean.

"What do you mean 'unpleasant'? Is my little brother okay? WHERE IS HE?!" Desperation he so tried to keep from seeping into his voice, poured out suddenly. Whatever game this man was playing, Dean had the sinking feeling it was endangering his only sibling's well being.

"Well, to answer your questions one-by-one, since we seem to be in interrogation mode right now, unpleasant meaning that you will honestly will not…appreciate it, no, your brother is not okay, at least as you would consider in your human standards, and lastly, he is still in that prison you call home. Or to be more precise, right on the outside of it." Even though the information formed a knot in the boy's throat and stopped his heart on its tracks, the stranger's voice never faltered or demonstrated any form of concern for the situation the blond was experiencing as his world fell apart.

"Now, as I was saying before, I would simply like to know how to make sure you get what you want and need. As an angel, I simply cannot go about breaking promises. It would look pretty bloody bad on the curriculum from up there." The man continued about, this time though, he was looking through the room Dean had woken up in. Exploring the space as if he were in a simple house tour.

Dean felt himself deflate as the man talked. This could not mean that his baby brother was gone, right? Dean needed him. He needed the little brunet in order to continue living. Without his charge, Dean had no purpose.

"I want for nothing. Nothing but my brother." The boy whispered as he laid his head between his arms, attempting to shut down this useless conversation. If this man could not reunite him with his sibling, within Dean's perspective, the angel or whatever the creature believed himself to be no longer had any value. This confession though, made the cloaked man stop in his track, finally regaining some sort of interest in the circumstances at hand.

"What do you mean? You want for no riches, companionship, land, power, or…parents?"

"I only want him." The boy whispered.

The man observed the resigned child in front of him, taking the cap of his cloak off and revealing blonde cropped hair with ruggedly handsome features.

"Very well then, if that's the only wish your heart desires, so be it."

In an instant, everything was gone, the bed, the sun trickling in through the windows, the soft lemony smell, the whole room. Instead, Dean found himself in cold, snowy ground, teeth already chattering from the freezing temperatures.

He immediately, of course, recognized his tower and the fact that he was back to the last place he had been in, outside of it.

Filled with excitement, he ran to the stone wall he had so stupidly climbed down what seemed ages ago, all meanwhile screaming for his brother. Before he could reach his destination though, he bumped unto a heavy object and came crashing down the snow with a pain-filled groan. Turning to see what sort of obstruction had caused him such a fall, Dean froze in place, eyes wide and lips trembling as he began recognizing the figure.

"NO!" He yelled with desperation and disbelief as he crawled to the take his little brother into his arms.

"N-no…" He sobbed. His tiny sibling lay frozen on Dean's arms, dirty rags covered his body with even dirtier cuts and bruises covering his once beautiful and juvenile skin. His little face no longer pink, but was now of an unnatural blue hue. His exotic, colorful eyes were now shut tightly with no hope of ever opening again. Dean could still make out the tear tracks that ran down the side of his cheeks, never to dry.

As Dean hopelessly wailed, rocking the lifeless form of his little brother in his arms, the stranger approached once more, this time, sporting a somber tone.

"Now do you see why your request was so foolish? There is nothing here for you." The blond angel sighed, "Now to fulfill my promise to your brother, please tell me where I can take you to make sure you live a happy life." He softly requested.

Never fully detaining his tears, Dean slowly turned his gaze to meet the angel's.

"Here. Looking after my Sammy."

That was the last Balthazar ever saw of both boys.

And for once in his long life, feeling that he had failed.


End file.
